I used to believe in love. I used to believe there was someone for me. I used to think, no one's meant to be alone in this world.
Now, I've come to believe I'm meant to be alone. I have people around me, people I know love me, but not romantically.
I have a hole inside of my chest I can't refill. I have an emptiness inside of me, something I miss deeply, and I wish I could fill it.
I feel like my best friend is my soulmate, but I also believe soulmates can just be friends. A soulmate is someone who brings you peace, someone who makes you feel safe. Someone who's never going to turn their back on you. Someone who's going to take care of you, in better or worse. A soulmate can be anyone in your life, not just your romantic interest.
I don't believe in marriage anymore. It's just an expensive piece of paper that eventually is going to bring pain. Marriage is something I used to want for my life, but why would I spend so much money, something that literally runs the world, on the possibility of falling out of love in the future?
I've changed my outlook on so much. I used to look forward to being married and having kids with the love of my life, creating and raising a family, having a lovely home in the suburbs and watching my kids grow into fine adults. Now, I want to grow old without that. I just want to be surrounded by my friends, people who chose me to be in their lives and stuck with me no matter what. People who have saved my life too many times to count.
I don't think I'll ever be able to fill this hole inside my heart, and I don't think I'll ever actually be okay. My sleeping has continued to be messed up time and time again. I still hear people whispering to me when no one's around. I still see myself doing drastic things, visions of myself dying.
A lot of times, my dreams lead to my death in some way. I've gotten to where I don't even want to sleep because I know the outcome; me lying on the floor, taking my last breaths, alone. I can never see the face of my killer, though. When I look up, all I ever see is a blank face, someone who has shoulder-length black hair. I can't tell a gender, I can't see any distinct details. Things start to go fuzzy, then I wake up. It's always a different way of dying, too.
I don't know if these "dreams" have meanings, but I get a feeling they do. The one time I didn't have those dreams out of months of having them, was when I was plastered and dreamt about my mom instead. That didn't feel like a dream; it felt like she was trying to tell me something. I wish I could remember what you said to me, Mom.
